Our last chance
by nena92
Summary: Ludwig and Feliciano fight fiercely. And the Italian decides to leave Ludwig. Left alone, Ludwig asks Feliciano a last chance but the Italian rejects it. Ludwig could not bear to live without his beloved Italian, is willing to do anything to get him back ... even take him as a hostage. M for future sex. SlightMasterGermanyxSlightSlaveNorthItaly


Ludwig has a scarlet face and a vein that throbs dangerously on his neck.

Feliciano sobs, biting his lower lip, but for once the German has no intention of softening. He is too furious; he has gone too far to be able to calm down and forget everything.

"Do you not even know how to do this?!" Ludwig growls frustrated as Feliciano's sobs intensify. "I didn't ask for much, only that you remember to send that package. It was not that hard, right? Instead you managed to mess it up. "

"If you didn't trust me, then you shouldn't have let me do it!" the Italian protests in a broken voice, "And anyway, even if I did it wouldn't be fine. You don't ever say anything good about what I do."

"Because you're a moron, a bloody idiot who does things without thinking," Ludwig exclaims sharply and Feliciano instinctively recoils a step.

"You don't say anything good about me, about who I am, what I do," Feliciano hisses softly, resentfully, with his voice barely audible. Yet in the tense silence and anger of their small Berliner apartment, Ludwig understands them perfectly and for once can't but agree with him.

Feliciano may have a lot of good qualities such as knowing how to cook, draw, and always having a smile on his lips. Yet at that moment Ludwig can't see anything but his flaws, his unreliability, his laziness, his tremendous naïveté and lack of energy.

He would like to strangle him, shake him up into reacting, to find out if this is really a man or just a silly little boy in tears.

"And how could I, since you never do anything right?" snarls the German, "Sometimes you're just a burden! You ruined my life. "

Feliciano pales and firmly tightens his fists: "You're a bastard, Ludwig!" Feliciano has never been so much like his brother than at this time.

"I've been called worse," the blonde says calmly.

"I have done everything I could for you," Feliciano accused, "I moved to Berlin for you, I left my brother to be with you! And you? Nothing! "

They stop to look each other in the eyes with such resentment that both are surprised for a moment. Feliciano then sheds more tears and whispers, "I want ... I want my family."

"Stop behaving like a child, you know I hate it!" Ludwig screams, upset by those tears but with no sign of stopping.

"Well," the German says, exasperated with one arm pointing to the door: "Leave me if you feel so trapped here."

Feliciano's dark eyes fill with more tears but it does not seem to have any effect on Ludwig.

"You can go, for all I care," Ludwig bluntly insists, "Just do not make more of a mess, please."

And with this last warning he leaves the apartment, slamming the door shut and leaving Feliciano in his corner unable to do anything but cry. He brings his hands to his face and tries to think of a solution, but there is none.

He and Ludwig rarely quarrel, and the few times that they do, things always work out quickly. He would burst into tears, Ludwig would feel guilty and the story ends with some nice little 'pampering'. But apparently this time is different; this time Ludwig had reached his breaking point, the point where things are too difficult to repair.

And then there's only one thing left to do.

When Ludwig comes home late in the evening, the lights are on and it is almost unnaturally silent. For many years, since Feliciano had moved into his home, it had been his goal to cook something different and extremely inviting every evening.

But this time there is no one in the kitchen, not even a pot to warm up.

A sudden rush of panic hits the German who, with shortness of breath, rushes into the bedroom. Into their bedroom.

Nothing, there is nothing. He has taken away all of his stuff. None of his poetry books are on the bedside table; his colorful slippers are missing under the bed; all his underwear is gone from the drawers of the cabinet.

He's really gone.

The first sensation Ludwig feels after comprehending that Feliciano has really left, is anger. All-encompassing anger. Probably, if he had been around, he would have yelled at him mercilessly for daring to go that way, for abandoning him.

But soon after Ludwig realizes that it was his own fault; that he was the one to heartlessly point to the door. And that is unforgiveable.

In a wave of desperation, he kicks the bed where they slept and made love in many times, and it creaks dangerously in the eerie silence of the house.

Unsatisfied, he grabs the bedside lamp and throws it on the ground, only feeling a little better when he hear it shatter on the floor. He destroys the covers with the growl of a wounded animal. Then he throws the covers to the ground, rips one of the curtains, and tries not to think about Feliciano no longer being part of his life. That he has left him forever.

But he only thinks about not seeing him again, hearing his sleepy laugh in the morning over a cup of coffee, no longer smelling the scent between the covers, and it kills him. For all that he can't blame anyone but himself and his big mouth.

He wants to run to the phone and call him, ask him to come back, to forget their quarrel, but something stops him. Perhaps it is the knowledge that Feliciano would come back only out of pity, or perhaps it's the fear that even that might not change his mind.

His heart beats hard in his chest until it hurts. With a black mass weighing on his stomach, he collapses on one of the couches where they had once spent the entire evening watching movies and talking about cars, one of the few passions that they have in common.

There is a note on the table that should not be there and with a trembling hand Ludwig lets it run through his fingers. It is written in Italian but he does not understand a word of Italian; he had never bothered to learn it, not even for Feliciano's sake. Perhaps this was his greatest fault.

He is miserable while observing those few unintelligible words.

He always thought that it should be Feliciano who should adapt to him, to learn his language, his customs, his culture, and he never even thought of meeting him halfway. And now he remains forever ignorant of what that little farewell note says, what Feliciano wanted to say before he left the house. After all, he deserves it; he deserves all the terrible emotions.

Gilbert looks at him with some concern in his eyes, but does not know what to say. Since Feliciano left a few days ago, Ludwig looks off with deep, dark circles under his eyes. At work he is meticulous as ever, but listless and absent. When they go out to get a beer, he tries to smile but then whispers into the glass: "I don't even know if I want to go home. Before, Feliciano was always waiting for me. "

He suffers in silence all on his own, impervious to any help or any word.

Gilbert has never felt this way and does not know how to help him. He always took life lightly, facing problems with a shrug. Ludwig on the other hand, under layers of muscles and Teutonic coldness, has a heart that beats too much, and suffers even more.

"Ludwig ..."

"I'm fine," the blond immediately replies, "I'm fine, I just have to get used to it. It's nothing too bad in the end. I have more space in the house; is restored the order and silence. I can listen to the music I want to and watch movies that I like when I go back home. There is nothing wrong. "

Not even he really believes it, but he still keeps up appearances. And if this is the game that Ludwig wants to play, then Gilbert will give him enough rope to hang himself with.

"Okay," the frustrated albino hisses and stands up, clapping with one hand on his strong shoulder, "Whatever. I'll see you at the meeting. "

When he goes away, Ludwig turns on the stereo to avoid having to hear the silence. He hates the silence. It had become unnatural and strange, even when the weather was beautiful.

He throws himself into bed still dressed without bothering to wash or shave since there is no one in bed with him. And if it were even slightly more absurd, he would cry about that.

He cowers under the covers, realizing how his body misses the small, hot and naked Feliciano curled up next to him. Without even realizing it, he turns on his side and strongly embraces the boy's pillow, as if it were his back. He presses his face into the covering that is now losing his scent, and thinks about what to do now.

He doesn't even want to think about how the next morning will be, to wake up and not find hot coffee in the kitchen, and not hear Feliciano singing some stupid Italian jingle in the shower.

"He will return. I know he will return. Then everything will work out and it will be as if it never happened," the German repeats just like every night with the false sense of hope that with these words Feliciano will return to him.


End file.
